


You're Enough for Me

by paulmcfartney



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: M/M, McLennon, Unrequited Love, anyway......., john is just really fucking stupid to be honest, john's rambling again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 23:47:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13445976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmcfartney/pseuds/paulmcfartney
Summary: john has just begun to genuinely feel something for his best friend, but he soon realizes that it's always been there.





	You're Enough for Me

**Author's Note:**

> this is supposed to take place around 1964 during their tour through the united states. though he never mentions his name, john's thinking about his feelings towards paul.

I don’t know what had changed in him. It seemed like a switch had been flipped in my mind. From friendship, to love in an instant. Perhaps it didn’t happen like that though. Maybe I’ve just been completely oblivious to my feelings this entire time, repressing them without a thought until they’d eventually bubble out in a flurry of whatever this was. It took me seven fucking years to realize how incredibly captivating he is, that he’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of having for myself smashed up into one brilliant man. When we were younger, I used to catch myself staring for longer than I should have. You’d have to spend years studying him to be able to memorize all of the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes, the slight sprinkling of freckles that speckled the curve of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, and how one of his front teeth appeared longer than the other when he grinned. I remember that I’d actually have to tell myself to resist the urge to cup his cheeks when we were close together. We’d be up close and personal quite a bit when we were younger, and I’d often find myself wondering how exactly he’d react if I actually had gone through with it. 

Homosexuality is wrong. Or at least, that’s how everyone else portrays it. Men are supposed to love women. Period. No questions asked. It was like if you’d do even something so miniscule, like brush your hand along his, someone would see, and then your entire career’s down the drain with more than half of the population shunning you because you did something so queer. It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. I tell him what I feel for him, and it’s like our entire relationship’s been slashed in half with a knife. I don’t tell him, and it’s like a personal hell for me. It’s like when you order food at a restaurant, and it comes out, and it’s nothing even close to what you ordered. You either have to suck it up and eat the food, or tell the waiter and wait even longer for one goddamn hamburger that you ordered almost an hour and a half ago. Alright, maybe not. But you see, there’s not really a win in any outcome, for me especially. Sit here and watch my relationship with him crumble from some stupid mistake, or sit here and watch him smile and laugh and love other women, knowing that if I ever said anything, I’d sever any tie between the two of us. 

I think that if I’d realized my feelings for him much earlier, I could’ve told him without having this massive cloud of dread hanging over my shoulder. Fame comes like a fire. At first, it’s nice and all, ‘cause it keeps you warm and comfortable for a little while. All too soon, though, it takes over, and engulfs everything that you once had, fuels your ego to the point of explosion until you come crashing down to burn. I used to dream of it every night; the wealth, the attention, and the girls. Now, there are some days where I wish that it had never even happened, at least not to me. Or him. Leading a normal life, or at least a semi-normal life, would be like a breath of fresh air. Except, he’s the near-constant breath of fresh air. When he’s around me, God--sometimes I feel like I can’t breathe. But he’s my air supply; my lifeline and soulmate, all wrapped into one man with eyes as warm and shimmering as the sunlight from above. 

I wonder why I’ve never felt this sort of way before. I mean, I’ve always known that we were meant to be together, as friends and partners in crime, taking the world by storm. I guess misinterpreting feelings has always been a curse on my poor self. It always felt like he was my brother, my best friend in the entire universe. Sometimes I think about what it was like almost seven years ago, when we’d sit up in my bedroom, strumming away on our guitars and not having a care in the world. There was something about those days that was so intimate, like we were the only two left on the planet. I wish that I was able to go back in time and make changes, live out a different life, one where we could finally be together without the risk of completely ruining our lives. The past was a golden time for him and I. We’d spend almost every waking moment together writing, playing, and dreaming together about what the future held for the two of us. 

We’d be laying on his bedroom floor listening to Elvis records, staring at his white ceiling while our feet moved back and forth to the infectious beat. I remember having this feeling in my chest, like some sort of knot was forming deep down. My eyes fell to the calloused, yet soft hand only centimeters away from mine, and I had the overwhelming urge to take it in mine and never let go. And so I did. It was a brush of my fingers at first, and when I glanced over at him for any sign of disgust or rage, he showed none. In all honesty, even if he expressed any of those emotions, stopping myself from taking his hand in mine would have been a definite challenge. The feeling I got from just the slightest touch was electric, and dangerously addicting. My eyes were met with a blank expression, his drooping eyes still glued to the ceiling. Pushing myself even further, and knowing that I was probably going to either regret this for the rest of my life, or think back on this with a flutter in my heart, I recall tracing my fingers from his wrist to his fingertips. Another glance, which was met with nothing in return. Finally, even with the intense argument raging on inside of my head, I managed to seal the deal completely, my hand fusing with his like it was in slow motion. The battle in my head raged on, though sheer panic began to take over my body. The fact that I was holding hands with my best mate was scary enough, but truly enjoying having his hand intertwined with mine was enough to give me nightmares. And when I thought I felt him give my hand the faintest of squeezes, I could swear that I’d fucking killed over on his bedroom floor. A small part of me wanted him to jerk his hand away in disgust, but the latter was so incredibly happy that he never did, that he held my hand for what had ended up to be hours. Looking back on it now, I realize that I shouldn’t have been so frightened. We had never spoken of it after that, and still haven’t dared to bring it up to this day. 

Sometimes, I’ll catch myself wondering what would’ve happened if I had brought it up when we were teenagers, in the hope that maybe something else would’ve happened. My inner conscience has always been my arch nemesis, and keeps me from doing nearly anything my heart tells me to. I’ll get myself worked up about everything often. It drives me absolutely up the wall knowing that just maybe if I hadn’t been such a wimp about everything, my life could’ve turned out different. A life with him at my side, not just as my best friend, but my lover, my supporter, and my soulmate. 

Even though we may not have a fairy tale ending like in all of the princess stories, I know that he’ll always be here for me with open arms and that blinding smile. Maybe we won’t end up together as I hope, but I’ll always have that nagging feeling in my chest that we just might end up with a fairytale ending, with a “happily ever after” and everything. The odds are against us, and seemingly have been for years and years on end. Settling for the very least may be my only available option. That’s alright, though, because I know that he’ll always be right at my side, standing with me as my best friend and soulmate. And that’s enough for me.

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY. i honestly just got this idea, and started typing up a storm. it doesn't actually have a real plot, and it's kind of an odd point of view. basically, i found myself thinking about what john's thoughts might have been when he started feeling *things* for paul. getting into john's mindset is kind of weird for me, because i've never really experienced anything even remotely close to what he and paul had. this fic/drabble thingy is made to kind of model what his thought process may have been in this type of situation, and in his case, The Paul Situation™. again, i know it's weird that it doesn't have a main plot or anything, but it's almost like he's explaining to someone unknown how he's ended up in the middle of this whirlwind of feelings.


End file.
